


Comfort For Two

by olivia_firefly, The_Queen_Of_OTPs



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Coffee, F/M, Fear of Flying, Protective Misha, Tired Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 08:12:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17484431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivia_firefly/pseuds/olivia_firefly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Queen_Of_OTPs/pseuds/The_Queen_Of_OTPs
Summary: Misha is very tired after a very busy day filming when he gets a call that he’s needed in Los Angeles for a convention. Once you finally get to the airport, while trying to board the plane, your anxiety was sky high, and once on the plane, your panic takes over, causing you to have a panic/anxiety attack. Misha helps you get over over it, before you both fall asleep together.





	Comfort For Two

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to olivia_firefly for helping me co-write, edit and finish this story. Much appreciated and such a huge amount of work, but we did it! ☺️♥️

Misha takes a seat on the rather tiny bed in his dressing room, quickly folding his legs under himself. He rubs at his left eye with a lazy hand, realising he is absolutely exhausted from his busy day of filming. He groans silently to himself, forcing himself back up from the bed, so that he can properly lie down. He couldn’t have had a clue that his crew and whoever else needed him wouldn’t even give him a moments rest. Just as he closed his eyes, a knock on his door made him immediately open them again. 

Still laying here, he grumbled, “Who is it?” 

“Misha? Honey, it’s me. Is it alright if I come in?” Came the reply. 

Misha, as exhausted as he was couldn’t work out just whose voice it was, but his mumbled reply of “Come in, door is open” allowed whoever it was to enter. 

Misha tensed up as he heard the door open and then close again before whoever it was at the door, took a seat beside him on the bed. A hand run through his hair and over his cheek, and he wondered if this was actually happening or if it were a dream but when he opened his eyes, they met with his girlfriends green ones, and he sleepily grinned. 

“Oh hello love.” He mumbled tiredly. 

“Hey, there sweetie. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, just tired. Hoping to rest.” He replied, but before he could say another word, his phone began vibrating in the pocket of his beige trench he had to wear for filming. 

“What now…?” He mumbled before grabbing his phone, sitting up, and answering. “Hello…?” 

He spent a few minutes on the phone before he finally finished up and he chucked his phone onto the end of the bed, and groaned, falling back onto the pillows. 

“What is it love?” You smiled softly. 

“Kripke. I have to fly to LA, for a convention…” Misha replied, head shoved in a pillow. 

"What, now?" You ask, worry colouring your tone.

“Yep” he moans. 

You sigh. "Well, come on, we better pack then. We only need a few things, right?"

Misha gave a long groan. "But sleep..."

"Mi," a small smile graces your lips. "Come on Mi, we need to head out soon. I'll do most of the packing if you call the cab... How about that. Deal?"

Misha sighs as he turns his head towards you. "Fine." He mumbles. "Help me up?"

He holds out his arm. You roll your eyes and go to grab it, trying to tug him up. "Mi! Give me something to work with here! You're heavy!" You complain. 

"Hey!" 

"What! It’s all that muscle!" You jokingly poke at his side, making him squirm. 

"No, don't! You know how ticklish I am!"

"Ugh, you're no fun! Just for that, you can get up yourself. Come on!" You step away, releasing him from your grasp as you head towards the wardrobe.

As you pack, you look over at Misha. You love Misha and think he’s adorable, but right now, he looks tired and exhausted. Disheveled hair, crinkled clothes... you sigh quietly, worriedly.

You turn back to finish packing then turn to grab the trinkets on the nightstand, only to spot Misha falling asleep.

You make your way over and perching on the mattress next to him.

"Misha, come on dear. Are you really this tired?" You say to him in a soft tone, bringing your hand up to thread it through his hair.

A soft mumble of confirmation is all that can be heard. 

"Come on Mi, I promise you can sleep on the plane, but we really need to head out in a minute."

"Come on Mi. Lets get up, yeah?" You turn him so he’s lying on his back, gently lifting him into a sitting position. "You good?" You ask. 

He gives a quick nod. 

"Okay." You whisper, bringing him into your arms, cupping his head to your shoulder. You rock him slightly. "See? You're doing awesome. Now how about you go and walk around the trailer to wake yourself up a bit, maybe have a shower, and I can get everything packed."

He sighs, turning his head to look up at you. "Whatever did I do to deserve you?" He questions, a smile toying with the corner of his mouth. 

"Must have been something pretty special!" You tease gently. "Now come on, let's get you up."

You drag his legs over the edge of the bed, standing on your own feet. You grab both his hands in yours. "On 3 you're going to stand. 1, 2, 3!" You tugged at his arms, lifting him from the bed to his feet. "There we go." You smile at him, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. "That wasn't too hard, was it?" 

"Speak for yourself!" He teases, resting his chin on your head. You stand there for a minute, arms wrapped around his shoulders, head resting on his chest, just listening to his heart beat. You find it comforting. You finally pull away from him.

"Okay." You start. "You go have a quick walk around the place. "Meet me at the front gates in 10 minutes. You're still calling the taxi!"

"Okay." He smiles gently, giving you one last kiss before making his way out the door. You watch him go, happy. You then turn to finish packing.

10 minutes later and you have finished, now dragging the single suitcase to the gates. You see Misha already stood there and you smile. "Hey!" You call to him. He looks around, seeing you, and smiles gently.

"Hey!" He calls back, jogging up to help you with the case. "You done?"

"Yep! Is the cab on the way?"

"Yeah, should be here any minute now."

"Cool." You grin, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

True to his statement, the cab arrived a minute later. Misha threw the case in the trunk while you hopped in the back. He got in the other side. 

"Where you guys goin'?" The driver asked, turned to face you on the right. 

"Could you take us to the nearest airport please?" You smile warmly.

"Course darlin'." He turned back to drive.

You turn to see Misha, head leaning on the headrest, eyes closed. "Hey, no falling asleep yet! The drive should only be about half an hour." You exclaim, reaching across to intertwine your fingers with his. He opens his eyes marginally, a small smile lighting his face. This is why you love him, you think. For these small moments, the way he looks at you in adoration, the way he is with others and around you. His kind compassion and his awesome stubbornness. His soft love and his fiery passion. You love him, there is no doubt in your mind about that. 

You lean over, resting your head on his shoulder. He rests his head upon yours. You can feel his beaming smile, his soft breaths. You wrap your other arm around his, drawing patterns into his bicep.

"Talk to me Mi. What happened today?" You ask softly. As he begins to describe his day, your soft smile grows warmer, your eyes fill with love and adoration, all aimed at the man you rested on, the man you would never leave, the man you would kill for. 

Misha's tales lasted until you arrived at the airport. You pay the driver, a soft "thank you" emerging from your lips, as Misha climbs out to get the suitcase. You walk towards the entrance, hand in hand.

As you approach the airport entrance, your anxiety levels are on the rise. You hated flying so much, almost despised it. But here you were, now standing at the luggage check in, a still exhausted Misha clutching to your arm, desperately trying to keep himself upright. Once the luggage had been finally checked in, you guide Misha through security and spend roughly 20 minutes there, and finally reach the main part of the airport. The flight was due to depart in roughly 1 hour, so you decided that it would be the perfect time to sit and down some much needed caffeine. You tell Misha to sit, while you went and ordered some coffee. Moments later you are returning to the table, and handing Misha a mug filled with his favourite kind of beverage, a double caramel latte. Misha takes a sip, and sighs thankfully for the caffeine. You were definitely sure he needed this coffee, just to keep him awake a little bit longer, but even that, you weren’t sure would keep him awake. 

As you sipped from your mug, you looked up at Misha, he now had his reading glasses on, flipping through a newspaper, another thing you loved about Misha, how vibrant those glasses made his eyes, despite how tired he may be. Just then to Misha’s right, you spot Jensen and Jared, walking through the airport, towards the café where you were. You quickly grabbed your phone, messaging Jensen, as you noticed him with his phone in his hand as always. 

To Jensen:  
“Hey, Jensen! Mish and I are in Starbucks, if you care to join us.” 

You giggle and watch Jensen as he looks at his phone. You turn your attention back to Misha now, he’s still reading the paper and sipping occasionally from his mug. Surely he almost must be finished. You sigh adorably at Misha, but all of a sudden, your whole world went dark when a soft, but rather large pair of hands go over your eyes causing you to yelp, and catch Misha’s full attention. It was then, that you realised whose hands they were. They were Jared’s. 

“Jared Padalecki…,” your words were tinged with a hint of surprise and exasperation.'.

You heard Jared sigh, and Misha grunt at his silly behaviour. Jared removes his hands, and in defeat he said “How’d you know it was me…?” 

“Your big hands. No one has big hands like you.” Misha laughed. Jared laughed too. 

“Where’s Jensen…?” You asked, slightly confused as to why Jared seemed to be the only one present. 

He pointed to the counter, where Jensen was standing, slightly leant on the countertop. “He’s ordering coffee, I believe” 

Jared sat down at the table, aside you, opening his phone, sending a text quickly, to who you would assume would be Gen. A few moments later, Jensen arrives at the table holding a tray, with 4 mugs on it. Handing the mugs around the table, both you and Misha take a look at your mugs, and are surprised when it was exactly the coffees you both loved. You weren’t going to mention it though, you just took a sip and smiled briefly at them. Looking at Misha again, he had now removed his specs and closed the paper, and was sipping at his cup too. 

“So are you guys on your way to a convention?” Jensen asked before wiping his top lip. 

“Sure are. Going to LA” Misha responded, surprisingly before you even got the chance. 

“Us too” Jared replied. 

You, Misha and the boys, spent a while chatting. You occasionally looked at Misha, each time, you noticed him slightly fading once again, his exhaustion finally catching up with him.  
Before you knew it, you and Misha’s flight number were called. It seemed the boys were going on a different flight to you, you had no clue why, but it didn’t matter. You both said goodbye to Jensen and Jared, giving both of them a brief hug, before taking Misha’s arm.

You guide Misha down to the gates where you had to be to board the plane. At this point, your anxiety is through the roof, but you were doing everything you possibly could to hide it from Misha. Worrying Misha was the last thing you wanted to do, especially at this time, since he was so exhausted himself. Misha’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“It’s time to board.” Misha pointed at the communications boards. 

“Great” you tried to sound confident and calm. Misha hadn’t picked up on your weariness yet which you found kind of comforting, but also worrying at the same time. 

As you approach the stand where the flight attendant stands checking tickets and passports, your arm clutching Misha’s, trying so hard not to squeeze too hard, trying not to be obvious about your fear… the fear is what was bothering you the most. The lady allows you through, and down the ramp you and Misha went, as you peer back up, Jensen and Jared are standing by the glass panels, waving, you hadn’t seen them before. With your free hand, you cast them a quick wave, still continuing your walk. Before you knew it, you were seated in your chairs, you took the window, you always took the window, sometimes it helped with the fear of flying, that was rare, but helpful. You stared out the window, and watched everyone else boarding the flight, and the flight attendants getting everyone on as quickly and safely as they could. Within 10 minutes, the captain had the plane up in the air, and the flight attendants going through the safety procedures. It was all too much, you clutch Misha’s arm still, as the plane gets higher and higher in the sky, looking out the window almost made you flinch, but you held it back as best you could. 

You had been in the air for 15 minutes now, suddenly it was all becoming too much for you to handle. Your breathing starts to get shaky as you glance around the cabin. The noises grow, surrounding you. The baby crying somewhere behind you is closer yet somehow further away. You can hear the squeak of the trolley coming down the aisle, the woman turn the page of a book on the other side of the aisle. You are struggling to breathe, you can’t get the air in, your lungs aren’t cooperating and your throat is tight. You close your eyes, slamming your hands over your ears, trying to drown out the onslaught of noise. Tears are running down your cheeks as you shake uncontrollably. You cant hear yourself think, can’t hear yourself speak. You try to call to Misha but the words are stuck in your throat. Its too loud, its too high, you’re in a flying death trap and you are NOT okay. 

Suddenly, you feel something touch your arm and you flinch away, a small whimper escaping your mouth. Your eyes fly open only to see Misha to your side, worry evident in his eyes. His lips are moving yet you hear nothing. The loudness has turned to a whitewash of noise. He begins tapping out a rhythm on your arm. Tap-tap-tap-tap-pause-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-pause-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-pause. He repeats the rhythm over and over again. You slowly start to realise what it is. You breathe in, but it gets caught. You pause, waiting for that seventh tap then pause. You shakily exhale, not quite able to make it to the eighth tap, but you're better than you were. You follow his taps with your breathing, and ever so slowly, you are breathing properly again. Your hands come down from where they were cupping your ears and rest gently over Misha’s. You bury your head into his chest as he continues with the rhythm. Your ear is over his heart. You hear it beat. Thump thump thump. You exhale once more. Your tears are seeping into Misha’s shirt yet he doesn't seem to mind. 

You can hear him whispering comforts into your ear. "It’s okay, you are okay, you are doing so well, I love you" and that moment you feel your shaking subsiding. 

You fling your arms around his neck. He wraps his around your waist. You silently cry into his chest, safe in the comfort that Misha is there. He will always be there for you. You feel him resting his chin on your head. The security of his hold calms you as your tears soak his shirt. You steadily breathe in. "Thanks." You hoarsely whisper, barely audible to anyone. Yet he hears. A small smile tugs at his lips as he turns his head to kiss the top of yours.  
“I’m here baby” He whispers one last time. You stay leaning into his chest, his arms around you. Maybe this isn’t the worst, you blearily think. A wobbly smile graces your face.

“Thank you” you mumbled quietly into his shirt. 

At that moment, you feel Misha’s hand come up to your head, and his fingers slowly running through your hair and softly down your back. You have to admit, this was quite soothing. Sure enough, you hear Misha snoring soon after, the exhaustion had finally taken over, sending him to sleep, but his subconscious fingers were still running over your hair, slowly. Ever so slowly, you finally drift off to sleep on Misha’s chest, your last thought being “What did I do to get this wonderful man by my side? 

The End


End file.
